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"Your father's no better than the niggers and trash he works for!" ch 11

"Cords of saliva would collect on her lips; she would draw them in, then open her mouth again. Her mouth seemed to have a private existence of its own. It worked separate and apart from the rest of her, out and in, like a clam hole at low tide. Occasionally it would say, "Pt," like some viscous substance coming to a boil." ch 11

You need to submit each of your other questions one at a time. Thanks.